


Assurance

by superwonderful



Category: OK K.O.! Let's Be Heroes
Genre: Gen, M/M, post-villains night out/in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-04 21:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12779982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superwonderful/pseuds/superwonderful
Summary: Boxman and Venomous are partners now.





	1. Coffee

The afternoon rain came down like a shadow on Boxmore and Boxman scooped grounds of coffee into the coffee maker. He filled the back of the machine with water and pressed the “on” button with his talon. He fetched two mugs, one saying “I donut care” where the word “donut” had been replaced with a cartoon donut, and another that said “world’s best dad.”  
  
The latter had been a present from his robots, who’d bought the thing from the bodega Boxman hated so very much. He wasn’t sure to be pleased or infuriated at their treachery. He’d chosen to be neutral. Being affectionate to his children seemed foreign in the wake of his own upbringing.  
  
The coffee maker chimed four times, and Boxman poured the brew into each mug. The professor had told him he liked his coffee black as night, so Boxman decided he’d have his own coffee the same way, however much he disliked bitter things. He could be like Venomous if he tried. He was always impressing himself, so why not take a new route of self-improvement? Boxman thought very little about integrity if it meant impressing not only himself, but the professor.  
  
Boxman took the mugs in his hand and his claw and made his way to the glorb processing plant. He’d told his children to mind their business while the professor and he worked, and they agreed to stay in their playroom with Fink again. It was for the best. He couldn’t have the fools messing up the way his new partner saw him. Sure, Venomous had been impressed at Shannon and Darrell’s babysitting skills, but there was no telling if they’d continue to sway him.  
  
“Professor Venomous,” Boxman said, a sing-song. He entered the lab with a swing in his step and an intention to awe, yet, paradoxically, not disturb the professor’s work.  
  
The room was bathed in the shivering teal lights of the glorbs. In Boxman’s absence, the professor had opened the front of the large supercomputer on the left hand side of the room. His lower half stuck out of the darkness of the machine’s inner parts. As Boxman approached, Venomous ducked so as not to injure his head while exiting the machine. The glorb tanks cast stars across the goggles pulled tight to his slender face. Venomous pushed the goggles up onto his forehead, forcing his black hair further back. He did not stand. He eyed the mugs in Boxman’s grip and made a pleased sound.  
  
“Black,” Boxman said with a proud tone, holding the “world’s best dad” mug out to the professor. It fit better with him. “Just how you like it, PV.”  
  
“Please don’t call me that,” Venomous said, reaching for the mug.  
  
Boxman felt before he saw Venomous’ fingers brush his claw. His talons scraped the ceramic and he let go; thankfully, the professor had taken the mug with both of his hands before this. Boxman laughed, his face instantly taut and warm.  
  
“Sorry,” he said, holding his own mug to his chest. He could feel his heartbeat through the coffee’s dark atoms. “I’ve just got the worst case of butter fingers sometimes.”  
  
The professor said nothing, only lifting the cup to his lips. He took a sip, then crossed his legs and smiled up at Boxman. Boxman had noticed that Venomous’ eyelids never seemed to lift above his pupils. It was a constant look of pleasure that didn’t quite match his frequent scowls and looks of indifference. Now, though, their lazy physicality made him seem calm.  
  
“Thanks,” the professor said.  
  
“My pleasure,” Boxman said, meaning every word. He peered into the shaft within the supercomputer, but couldn’t make out a thing. Not that he had expected to.  
  
“What are you working on?” he said to the professor.  
  
“I’m making sure your computer can handle what we’re about to unleash onto its motherboard.” Venomous tilted his sharp chin, his eyes darting over the void of the inactive screen. “There’s still a few parts I need to change before we can work with the chip.”  
  
“Take all the time in the world.”  
  
"It'll only take an hour. I just thought it'd be beneficial to have a caffeine break.”  
  
“Oh, well of course. You can’t be drinking coffee and working on such dangerous equipment at the same time. That would be ridiculous!”  
  
“I’m glad you understand,” Venomous said with the tone that always made Boxman unsure if he had said the right thing. He was always thinking with the professor. “I see you’ve made your own cup.”  
  
“Yes, I have. I like my coffee black, too. Isn’t that just a coincidence? We’re very in sync, aren’t we?”  
  
Venomous sighed. He rest his back and the crown of his head against the supercomputer. He closed his eyes and Boxman traced the way his nose came to a gentle point.  
  
“Are you going to sit with me?” the professor said without moving.  
  
“Well, I,” Boxman said. He bit his tongue and cringed. “I would love to! I mean, I would be glad to. I mean, I would-”  
  
Venomous opened his eyes and gave Boxman such a look that he decided he’d made enough of a fool of himself.  
  
“Okay,” Boxman said, and he sat beside the professor.  
  
The two said nothing for a few minutes. The only sounds were the obscured churning of the liquid channeling the glorbs and the strange noises of two people chipping away at a cup of joe. At least, that was all Boxman could hear, besides his own pulse quaking inside of his ear drums.  
  
“I’m glad that this is happening,” Venomous said, lancing the quiet.  
  
“What’s that?” Boxman said. He sat up, attentive, wanting to express attentiveness.  
  
“Us.” The professor chuckled. “You know. This was meant to be. Don’t you feel that, Boxman?”  
  
Boxman did. He felt it very, very strongly. He felt a million things about Venomous that he was incapable of vocalizing. He wanted to change everything with the professor. He wanted to destroy those meddling Lakewood Plaza twerps with this man.  
  
He set his mug down and looked into his palms. The lined, rough orange of the claw, the light green of the flesh and blood. When he saw Venomous, he thought of his age and his weight. Boxman had thought himself not very handsome, not even quite human; the glorb inside his chest ached as much as his heart did. But he didn’t want to feel confused. He wanted to feel sure with someone for once.  
  
“I know that we’ll do great things,” Boxman managed to say, because it was what he felt and worried about.  
  
“Excellent.” Venomous touched his arm. “I love your dedication.”  
  
“Oh. Well, thank you.” Boxman resisted the urge to touch the professor’s hand. For a moment, he thought how pathetic it was to feel this.  
  
Releasing him, the professor lifted his mug to his lips and finished the coffee. He tucked a piece of hair behind his violet ear and pulled his goggles back down.  
  
"When you're finished," Boxman said, hurried, trying to suspend their comradery. "if you'd like, what do you think about going out?"  
  
“Out?” Venomous was not smiling. “In this rain?”  
  
“Well, I know it’s a bit unconventional.” Boxman had not thought about the weather. “I don’t know. A movie? Dinner? I’ll buy, of course.”  
  
Boxman twiddled his thumbs. He wanted to do more than watch the professor work. He needed to know him, somehow. He felt lust in too many ways, when he saw the professor.  
  
Venomous shrugged and moved to re-enter the supercomputer.  
  
“What did you have in mind?” the professor said, head tucked into the darkness.  
  
“Well, I,” Boxman said, clinging to this. “What sounds better to you?”  
  
“I guess dinner would be fine. You don’t have to pay for all of it.” Venomous' voice was muffled in the machine. He climbed deeper inside until only the soles of his boots were visible.  
  
“Oh, but I insist, I," Boxman began to say. He stopped himself. "All right. I'll find something wonderful!”  
  
Feeling unbelievably pleased and overwhelmed, Boxman watched the professor all but disappear into the machine. Then, as the silence grew, he realized he was no longer needed.  
  
Deflating, Boxman returned to his office and looked out the windowed wall onto the bodega, shiny with rain. It was certainly darker than it was before. But, Boxman imagined that didn’t matter to those goody-two-shoes urchins. The heroes were all out there with their disgusting relationships safe and their horrid friendships safe and their putrid little hearts unprovoked by anything but dumb surprise. He envied it and he hated it all at once.


	2. Dinner

“Lord Boxman?” the hostess said, her hands planted on either side of her face. “Professor Venomous? _The_ Lord Boxman and Professor Venomous?”  
  
The restaraunt patrons went silent, swiveling in their chairs to see if what they had somehow heard was true.  
  
Refusing to look at the professor by his side, Boxman mused on how he had not planned this. He’d assumed that there wouldn’t be many heroes or civilians who went out on rainy late afternoons, and any few who did would keep to themselves. The terrified hostess in front of him seemed to leave him no alternative for an uninterrupted dinner. He retrieved his atomizer gun from the interior of his coat and held it up to the ceiling, covered in fairly beautiful etchings if he was allowed to think so. He hoped that he could salvage this; Venomous liked threatening heroes, didn’t he? He hoped he did, at that very moment in time.  
  
“That’s right!” Boxman shouted, in the most rumbling, sinister voice he could muster. “It’s Lord Boxman and Professor Venomous!” He aimed the atomizer at the young hostess, who flung her small hands up above her head. “Table for two, if there’s any available.”  
  
“Please,” Venomous said, and Boxman felt a tingle up his tail bone. He had heard a smile.  
  
#  
  
The emptied restaurant was quiet but for the soft, trite pop coming from the speakers hidden away somewhere in the scenery. The professor had picked a round table by the entrance door. He introduced the idea that Boxman should point the atomizer at any person who entered. This seemed like a good idea, and Boxman was more than delighted to oblige the professor.  
  
Boxman fetched two glasses and an open bottle of cabernet sauvignon from the bar. He served the professor and himself each a healthy glass and set the bottle on the table top.  
  
“Thank you,” Venomous said. He wrapped a lilac palm around the glass, gentle; experienced. Boxman mimicked the motion with his claw, finding the glass a bit awkward in his own grip. He felt as if he needed to make a toast, whenever he drank wine. The compulsion to be disruptive and wonderful was horribly strong for him. He reminded himself that Venomous was not so easily impressed, and he didn’t deserve that respect unless he had earned it.  
  
The professor had begun to look about the establishment. Boxman admired the beautiful black turtleneck he was wearing, having taken his coat off. He noticed the way that the thin fabric made the professor’s clavicle seem even more pronounced. He took a sip of his wine with his eyes transfixed upon the healing, living bones there, beneath all of the layers.  
  
“So, now that there’s no cook, what are we going to eat?” Venomous said, returning his gaze to Boxman.  
  
“Well, I’m glad you asked, I,” Boxman said, raising his pointer finger. He stopped himself and placed his hand on his chin. He realized he had not thought ahead. Perhaps it would’ve been a better idea to disguise themselves. He could have held the cooks hostage, no, just one. At least they’d have a sap to make them a fresh meal. Boxman almost proposed eating a full looking plate left on any table, but that seemed so abominable a suggestion he felt embarrassed for even thinking it.  
  
“Do you like macaroni and cheese?” Venomous said. He took a swallow of wine, and Boxman saw his tongue push out into the corner of his dark lips to catch some invisible drop.  
  
“I haven’t had it in a while, honestly,” Boxman said, chuckling, perplexed. “But, I like it, yes. I would say so. If I remember correctly. That is.”  
  
“All right. I make macaroni and cheese for Fink every week.” The professor ran a napkin over his mouth. “If they’ve got some noodles and cheese back there, I could make us a pot.”  
  
“Really?” Boxman said, and at once regretted the incredulous tone he had taken up. The professor’s hurt, surprised expression made him emotionally recoil. “I’m sorry, I mean, you wouldn’t mind?”  
  
"No," Venomous said, still visibly bothered.  
  
"Okie dokie, then, well," Boxman said, finding it hard to breathe. "I'm going to use the restroom. Just a moment."  
  
Boxman excused himself without looking at the professor and found the men's bathroom. Inside, the horrible music over the stereo seemed infinitely louder and torturous. He ran his claw through his teal hair and peed. He washed his hands and looked into the mirror. There wasn't anything worthwhile in the reflection and so he quickly looked away. Venomous wore eye-shadow. His face wasn't meant for that.  
  
Boxman pressed his claw against his lined forehead. His talons scraped harmlessly across the metal above his red eye. This had not gone at all how he had planned. He had meant for them to have a nice, hot meal that’d he pay for in full. Now, because of circumstances he should have expected and remedied, the professor was being forced to make them food. He felt his blood boiling in his neck. He wanted to press his claws harder into the metal. He needed to feel it give way or he was going to himself.  
  
“Boxman,” the professor said, somewhere in his heat wave of shame. “Boxman!”  
  
“Yes?” he said, trying to sound unperturbed, grinning, unable to fully process the professor's presence in the bathroom. Then, he saw that Venomous’ lavender face was in the mirror. It was mild behind him, watching him, his hand holding the door open.  
  
"Are you all right?" Venomous said.  
  
"Fine. Just, absolutely great."  
  
“Let's go eat,” the professor said. “Everything's fine. Come on. I’ll show you.”  
  
So, Boxman left the bathroom with the professor. He watched him make the macaroni and cheese, very quiet and attentive. Then the two of them ate it.


	3. Okay

What a beautiful world that could be collected by geniuses. It was like a glorb, waiting to be placed in a tank.  
  
These were the words Boxman thought as he and the professor rode on a larger build of Jethro. They were on their way home; dinner had gone as fast as it had come. But Boxman was brimming with desire for many things, all at once.  
  
They were in a quiet, comfortable silence. Venomous’ hair coast behind them as Jethro moved along, and Boxman took his time to watch it and compare it to the ocean, if it was sick and bruising purple. A beautiful, deadly shade. Boxman touched his own sea green hair.  
  
“I am Jethro.”  
  
  
#  
  
  
“I had a nice time,” Boxman offered, as they re-entered Boxmore. Venomous was not removing his coat, and this was a warning sign. “Would you like some dessert? I made a cake the other day-” He stopped himself, realizing that making a cake for himself was a less than compelling idea, even if it was true.  
  
“No, thanks,” the professor said. He paused his step to check his wrist-watch. “Yikes. I have to get Fink home.”  
  
“Oh, well, I can’t interest you in even taking a slice home?” Boxman said. “Of the cake, I mean. It will only take a moment.”  
  
Venomous chuckled and Boxman felt himself melt.  
  
“I don’t really go in for sweets,” the professor said. “And Fink doesn’t need sugar.”  
  
“Of course. Right. I understand.”  
  
Boxman looked at the pointed toes of his boots. He held his hands together, across his gut. When he looked up, the professor was moving away. It was increasingly apparent this was a chance to speak and he was letting it slip through his claws. But, his throat was locked. The glorb in his chest was sick and shaking and he tasted something acid in his mouth.  
  
The professor made him macaroni.  
  
He _wanted_ Boxman to be his partner.  
  
Even if none of the other villains liked him, Venomous did.  
  
Venomous smiled at him.  
  
These were truths he tried to clutch and to internalize and the weakest part of him was unwilling to do so.  
  
“Venomous?” he said.  
  
“What’s that?” the professor said, without turning.  
  
“This is sudden, and I apologize,” Boxman said. His hand found Venomous’ side, and he winced. He hadn't meant to touch exactly there. It was fragile feeling; a little valley in his side that rose into stronger rib bones and, Boxman swallowed, hips. Venomous didn’t speak or move and Boxman felt like he would die. He gave up. He rest his forehead against the professor’s spine. He breathed in the scent of the professor’s coat; his cologne that somehow became one with that coat.  
  
“Oh, I like you,” Boxman said, into the white fabric becoming black with every bit of closeness. “I like you, very much. And, if you don’t like me, that’s fine.”  
  
The most tense and suffocating moment of Boxman’s life passed in a blink. Venomous’ fingers touched his claw, which was involuntarily reaching for the professor’s wrist.  
  
“I know,” Venomous said.  
  
“You do?”  
  
“Of course I do. I’m not blind, Boxman.”  
  
Boxman let go and the professor faced him. His eyes were the same; half-lidded, despondent and searching all at once. It made him freeze.  
  
“How do you feel about,” Boxman said, feeling a painful spot in his chest. “How do you feel about me?”  
  
The professor tilted his head, raising a finger to his own chin. He crossed his other arm over his breast and audibly hummed.  
  
“Well,” Venomous said. “You’re over-eager, awkward, and you yell too much.”  
  
Boxman burned and pressed his thumbs together.  
  
“Even so, you’re the only villain, or person really, who I feel genuinely cares about me.” Venomous scratched the stubble on his sharp chin. “If that makes any sense.”  
  
“Of course,” Boxman said, reaching towards the professor. “I do. Care about you, I mean. And like you. Genuinely.” He cleared his throat. He tried to calm his voice. “You mean so very much to me.”  
  
Venomous’ expression became soft.  
  
“I know,” the professor said. “You say what you mean. You say the worst possible thing in any given situation.”  
  
Boxman tried to understand how this was positive. He decided he could understand if he believed Venomous thought it was positive. The professor lifted his shoulders into a gentle shrug.  
  
“Honestly Boxman, when you’re showing the world how you got that -10 on your Pow Card, it’s hot.” Venomous squeezed his face into a pained expression. “Really hot.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“It’s excruciating.” The professor covered his eyelids with his palm. “I don’t know how to function.”  
  
Boxman touched his own cheek and felt the heat down into his knuckles. He did not know if the professor was joking. Either way, he was perspiring.  
  
“Anyways,” Venomous said, dropping his hand to his side. “You’re my partner, Boxman. I like you. I hadn’t necessarily thought about going beyond that, but I can’t tell you I’ve never thought you were attractive.”  
  
“Yes, well, I admire your,” Boxman said, and let his eyes find the things he appreciated from Venomous’ physical nature. “Well, hm, your everything is exceptionally beautiful. Your hair, and your shape are lovely. And your purple skin is just radiant.”  
  
“Thank you," the professor said, as if he'd complimented his macaroni.  
  
“I really want to kiss you, Venomous,” Boxman told himself to say, and he did say, through an awful sounding laugh. Was this the wine? He realized how horribly he was sweating under his armpits and he was sure he must look as bad as he wondered if he smelled.  
  
“Do you?” Venomous said very quiet. It was as if Boxman had proposed a plan to destroy P.O.I.N.T. by his tone.  
  
“I do. I think you’re beautiful and smart and I know I’m neither of those things but-” Boxman said, running over his words like a fool. “I want to, you see.”  
  
“Are you saying you’re not smart?”  
  
“What?”  
  
The professor crossed his arms.  
  
“Your self-deprecating nature doesn’t suit how powerful you are,” Venomous said. “Why don’t you embrace your strength as a villain? It’s so absolutely frustrating.”  
  
“I’m,” Boxman said and found his feet again. He was flustered by the change in subject. His voice grew light, usual. “I don’t know. When I’m with you, I don’t want to make you feel embarrassed. Anymore. I’m sorry about last week, with Billiam. I should have thought it out.”  
  
“Good grief.” Venomous squeezed the bridge of his nose. His voice became serious, gravel. “Come on. I won’t lie and say you can’t be a bit overbearing. I just want to see you act as terrifying as you know you are.” He clenched his fist, passionate, and the other hand reached out to find Boxman’s shoulder.  
  
Boxman decided he was in love. Maybe it had been a juvenile infatuation he’d felt before. At the moment, he didn’t feel comfortable calling what he felt for the professor infatuation. He adored Venomous for the way he saw potential in him. He loved him for the way he looked into his eyes like he mattered at all. Perhaps it was all ridiculous, but Boxman was as ridiculous as they came. Perhaps it would fade, but, then, it was palpable and very annoying to not act upon.  
  
“Could I kiss you?” Boxman said, reaching for Venomous.  
  
The professor clicked his tongue. He wasn’t smiling, yet he leaned forward and let Boxman’s claw find the side of his face. Close, Venomous’ eyes darted over Boxman’s features, and Boxman wondered what he thought of the half formed nature of them.  
  
“What happened to you?” the professor said. His breath was rich with alcohol and dairy. His sharp teeth were off white and lovely. Boxman brushed a talon beneath the professor’s eye.  
  
“I’ve had no luck with anything, if I’m being honest,” Boxman said.  
  
“That’s tough.”  
  
“Incredibly. I'm not-”  
  
The professor pushed his lips against Boxman’s and Boxman found quickly and horribly that he had no experience with kissing at all. He tried to keep their lips connected but the motion felt strange and underdeveloped. He pulled back and Venomous cocked a perfectly trimmed eyebrow.  
  
“That’s it?” the professor said.  
  
“Well, I,” Boxman said, and he dropped his claw from Venomous’ face. He shrugged and looked away. The chuckle came out of his mouth before he could stop it. “I don’t do this very often. I mean, I’ve done it before, plenty of times, loads of times, but I haven’t-”  
  
“Let me do it.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Boxman allowed Venomous to lean in again. The professor kissed him anywhere he saw fit. This meant not only on the lips but Boxman’s chin, the fat of his neck, his forehead, and the metal shells of his ear lobes. Boxman’s legs felt prone to give out. He was a vessel of clay by the end of it and his pants felt incredibly tight.  
  
“You smell, Boxman,” the professor said, pulling back.  
  
“Oh,” Boxman said. Instinctively, he yanked his own collar and sniffed the warm air wafting up. He screwed up his face. “I apologize. I’m nervous.”  
  
“I see.”  
  
“Do you want to stay tonight?” Boxman said. He realized the connotations too late and decided he must go with it. Venomous laughed, a sharp noise, and widened his eyes.  
  
“Flattering, but, I’ve got to get Fink home,” he said, and his expression faded.  
  
Boxman retreated into himself. It felt as if he’d put all of his innards out in front of the professor, and now he had to recoil. There were things he couldn’t change; he’d wish the little green rat out of existence if it was possible.  
  
“Will you come tomorrow?” Boxman said.  
  
“I’ll see what I’ve got planned. Probably.”  
  
Boxman followed Venomous down the hall towards the playroom. He couldn’t bring himself to walk by his side. Darrell and Shannon, covered in scuff marks, offered up a sleeping Fink to the professor. Venomous took her up with thanks. Boxman nodded to his robots and they grabbed at each-other with delight.  
  
“Man, I hope dad goes out with the professor forever!” Shannon said.  
  
“But, then we’d never see him.” Darrell touched the rod that formed his lip.  
  
“Oh, yeah. Dang.”  
  
  
#  
  
  
Boxman looked up from the disgusting bodega, towards the sky. Vast and dark blue, it didn’t seem real. Much like how things were happening, he thought to himself. He couldn't help the question on his lips.  
  
"Is this okay?" he said.  
  
Venomous stroked Fink’s hair. She breathed silent in his arms, and Boxman hated her. He hated that he asked the question.  
  
“What do you mean?” the professor said, sounding tired, as if Fink was passing the mood to him.  
  
“I’m not sure.” Boxman scratched the back of his neck. It was damp. “You know, the whole kissing thing. I’m just unsure if I should have said anything. I don’t want things to be uncomfortable, between us.”  
  
“Yeah.” Venomous followed Boxman’s line of sight, up to the stars. He exhaled. “I know I’m okay with it. Can you be okay with it?”  
  
“I don’t know!” Boxman raised his voice. He threw his fists to the sky and groaned. “Darn it, I’m so unhappy! I wish I could just do things and not think about them. I’m awful.”  
  
Venomous hushed him and Boxman covered his mouth. Fink murmured and pushed her thumb between her lips.  
  
“I’m sorry.” Boxman pressed his hand and claw over his eyes. He felt the tears collect into his palms. What the heck? How over-dramatic! He didn’t want to take his hands away. He didn’t want the professor to see. “You deserve a better partner than me, Venomous.”  
  
“Ugh.” There was a hint of anger in the professor’s voice.  
  
“I’m sorry.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “I’m sorry- I mean, I’m not sorry.”  
  
“Look at me!” the professor said, quiet but urgent.  
  
Boxman did. Venomous eyes were stern, uncompromising in the face of his tears. Boxman prepared himself for a lesson; a fact about himself that he was unable to say but knew.  
  
“I like that you care about what you do,” Venomous said. His sharp face became uncomfortable, embarrassed. His voice lilted, seemed uncertain. He rest his chin against Fink. “I want you to tone it back a bit, sure, but I appreciate that you care. Maybe, it’s your worst and best quality. I guess I didn’t say it right, before.”  
  
Boxman wiped his eyes with his tie. He blew his nose into it and Venomous shook his head.  
  
“You’re strange. You're unpredictably weird. We’re going to do evil things,” the professor said. He smiled, a skewed, pleased smile. “Go make some tea or something, all right? I’ll see you.”  
  
Boxman realized, as he watched Venomous go in the soft light seeping from Boxmore, he didn’t understand. Not yet. He didn’t know how to change, but he knew he wanted to. It was possible. He could do it for the professor's sake, if not for his own. He had a purpose, outside of crushing the plaza troglodytes. Maybe that was what it meant to feel safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait, life happened. thanks for reading my story


End file.
